


prostemo

by Dissonencia



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, technological melancholy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:38:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissonencia/pseuds/Dissonencia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 times in his life ichigo met rukia. (*because some things aren’t just about happiness)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is nonlinear; there are 3 timelines. but there are guides.

**0 – start at the middle (27)**

Ichigo plans to marry, of course, though the idea is still entirely foreign to him and he’s certainly not the type to actively seek relationship. Ichigo feels that it’s part of the normal course of things just as waking up and going to school and graduating and finding a job and getting promoted and marrying and having children and having success and building fortune and being happy and then dying.

There’s something blithely accurate about watching the sunrise, 7:35 this morning – _now_ , a huge, blazing yellow ball muddled by thin gray clouds and murky screens of pollution and framed by skyscrapers: it’s definitely _not_ stirring. But then, every morning is different _,_ and so the morning for tomorrow could be different, perhaps softer and lighthearted, there is always that chance, he thinks in German and Spanish and English and Japanese, languages from countries he knew what the sunrise looked like.

Ichigo studied abroad, because of a generous scholarship from the behest of a giant tech industry back in his home country –charity, they claimed, and a little bit of luck. But Ichigo never needed charity. He grew up in a middle-class family comprised of his two sisters, a doctor for a father, and housewife mother –an entirely self-sufficient household. Even without that little bit of luck, he would still manage to get a stable job and a house and proceed with the normal course of life, though less grand than the one he has now, but it’s fine because Ichigo is never really a man of materialism. He got into a public high school, offered to continue studies abroad, took it and graduated with honors and became an intern, after two years, given a corner, ceiling-to-floor windowed office –the most common kind of success story for an average person. Ichigo is an average person with the same success story: living in his 59th floor, corner room that is as posh and as minimalist and as modern as any executive would have; two-color scheme: black and white furniture and paint, with red accents.

But Ichigo is an average person with the same success story living in a more advanced time: where the colors of the mind are the brightest and _everything_ is available in small, sleek digital boxes, where places are high rise and contemporary architects are loved dearly for their modern designs that signal to people: we are finally moving forward, where even the tiniest, smallest problems are getting the best solutions and grace means social pleasantries and everything seems to be at the height of minimalistic artdom. The irony though is that society still unconsciously defines how a person should live: the normal course of things.

Ichigo, positively-influenced and refined and well-dressed, has most of the primary events checked in the normal course of things. Indeed, some things are better in theory _than_ in practice, Ichigo plans to marry and have kids and build fortune, the 27-year old Ichigo though, despite being a dapper, still possesses the unease of his 14-year old self, and still hides behind his scowl.

But then again, he lives in a time where there is solution to every problem and liberation of ideas _literally_ means liberation of ideas and the generation’s skills are able to match this liberation, there is a world-wide matchmaking program that pairs couple on a neurological level, an algorithm that finds a person anywhere in the world and logically analyzes the traits and likes and memories, matching the personalities into perfection; a being to a being, perfectly-matched.

The business profit to this, Ichigo thinks, is the primary driver of the program creation. It comes, of course, with an extremely high cost and is exclusive to few –presently, and this includes Ichigo. The exclusivity comes from the program’s endpoint offer in case of failure, a clean break-up, from physical to mental to emotional, all traces will be gone; the program works _only_ for the buyer, the other side –the found match- doesn’t know anything, it is up for the buyer to pursue the other person or not.

 _But_ , Ichigo supposes, this is part of the normal course of things, it doesn’t really matter how the program was created or what it will do, the point is, the program has a vital function and is entirely convenient.

And so he has a flight back to his home country in a few hours, to meet his program compatible match.

The sunrise back home though, he hopes, is exactly how he remembered it to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**(-) 4745 days (14)**  
  
Ichigo isn’t sure why he lets this Kuchiki girl tow him around town one afternoon after class under a weather the cross between springtime and summertime.  
  
Her small hand wrapped around his snugly as she leads him left, left again then right then another right then to a straight path, darting in between people, in between town alleys and shops seamlessly.

Ichigo doesn't complain though (at least, not yet). But he’s still confused so he struggles to look behind him.

"Don't look! You'll get their attention," she snaps then looks at him behind her shoulder and glares squarely at him: he glimpses something familiar, something back last New Year, something that twinkles in the rain, something violet or something blue; her eyes shine like a purple tulip lit by the morning sun.

But her voice is rough. Like a boy's.  
  
He struggles to look behind him again, ignoring her warning. He sees no one particularly off, just a muddle of normal-looking people as they turn another alley.  
  
Then he feels a harsh tug, pulling from the direction of the girl.  
  
"Wha-t?"  
  
"I said don't look!" She hisses and pulls him harder, urges him to walk faster.  
  
"Wha-t?" He repeats dumbly, looking at her –or at the back of her head.

“Sssh!”  
  
Soon, her hurried steps turn into a full run and Ichigo is trying to keep up with her, his hand still in hers.

He sees her face once (close-up), then hundred times amongst the crowd in the high school he attends, he knows who she is –a bright light amongst his dim-faced schoolmates, extremely wealthy and ridiculously smart, the class president _and_ the student council president –everything easily described in superlatives. On a more physical note, she is strikingly pretty but annoyingly short. Ichigo likes to think he doesn’t care much. After all, he’s a cool and detached guy, and cool guys don’t become cool by admiring others, and this girl is a celebrity in his school and he never really likes celebrities (and their fakeness) and so he takes into treating her like one: afar and aloof and never a second glance; he’d be above his idiot schoolmates.

But life, though, has a different way. Bell ringing and students milling and school gates and he somehow ended up in her grasp, suddenly running halfway around town.

She’s short and petite. She wears his school's uniform, her grey skirt flailing inoffensively against the gentle breeze. Her hair is somewhat shorter, and shiny, so shiny it threw off the warm afternoon sun rays easily. The tree leaves leave shades on her form, in light brown, in caramel, in tan – he thinks it’s peculiar.  
  
Her small hand that roughly covers only three of his fingers tightens and she looks at him again behind her shoulder.  
  
His breath hitches sudden and hard, his heart skips a vital beat when she smirks at him, “I know you, you are the new-year cards delivery guy.”  
  
He's a high-school student. Boy. Fourteen years old.  
  
She's a year older than him. Girl. Fifteen years old.  



	3. Chapter 3

**(+) 1 day (27)**

It’s New Year tonight in Tokyo and the stars are particularly vivid and the air is very cold and smells like flowers. Ichigo just remembered, watching the people in the shrine move about, the women in their pretty kimonos, the men in more or less formal clothes – _ah_ , tonight also means hatsumode or the first visit to the shrine for the New Year. 

Ichigo doesn’t know what to feel about that; he barely remembers his childhood and its occasions, but he knows the old street where his family used to live: surrounded by greenery and overlooking the town, his old high school, some of his old friends and teachers, apart from all these, the rest are murky and blurred.

But he did not come here to revisit them, childhood and teen-age are distant pasts, events that ran their course; he’s here to go along with the normal course of things, to move forward. 

 _In here_ , he finds his match –through all the information about him that a computer analyzed and deemed perfect for him. He finds her an hour after midnight, when most people start to go home after having prayed at one of the smallest shrines.

 _She_ stands alone in front of the shrine, her hands together, her eyes closed, her head slightly bowed –praying. Black-haired and petite. She dresses well and neat and devoid of lavishness, whimsical in a white furisode and white butterfly pin on her hair –up in a messy bun and a lone bang in-between her eyes. 

With only two small paper lamps beside her and fireflies around, she stands radiant.

Ichigo wears a perfectly-fitted black suit and tie, and a deep red scarf wrapped around his neck, his bright orange hair long enough to reach his nape, certainly a sight unmissed by most for he’s very tall and striking. He stands meters from her, casually looking over but not being entirely stalker-ish.

She’s seemingly young, _no_ \- Ichigo corrects himself, she’s too young, too pretty – he’s certain she’s halfway in her teens and almost half his age. Too young, a girl like that couldn’t be his program compatible match –Ichigo almost turns away.

But he doesn’t, because there’s something almost old about her, something peculiar, something he already knows.

The girl finishes her praying, bows, and prepares to leave. She turns to his direction; Ichigo stays, a hand in his pocket. She meets his eyes, lingers a bit and offers a polite, small smile and a low bow then turns away and passes him; Ichigo nods.

“Miss?” He starts, still having a perfect Japanese accent, with a voice a little low, it’s impolite to speak in loud, brash tones. When she passes him, he turns and asks casually “Can you tell me your name?”

There’s something about her that reminds him of: when a child first sees a shooting star; violin and spring flowers; how the sun glows during the first winter morning; running around town one afternoon; exchanging cards; sharing an umbrella during a rain; a purple tulip lit by the morning sun.

The girl stops walking, there is a brief silence, then she turns back and bows lightly again, “My name is Rukia.”


	4. Chapter 4

**(+) 4380 days (39)**

_So, what now_? He thinks – _wonders_. He’s thirty-nine and dying already.

There is something to look forward to when we die, the religious often say. But he's not. We will go and blend into space and become stardust, the scientifics say. But he's not. He has no existing body of belief, no heaven, no nirvana, no Polaris, he belongs to no faith, prays to no one, confesses to no one. All his human burdens kept within him, he thinks they’re unnecessary things anyone else besides him should not bother with. He makes no effort to resolve adversaries he still has. After all, a worldly problem would die with its holder, cease to exist. It means nothing in the end.

Hence the question: _so, what now?_  

Ichigo has been labeled as the most pessimistic of all the patients in the floor. _Because_ : patient –a word too deceiving. He’s not sick. He’s dying. Dying from shortened life expectancy for humans, dying from all the consequences of invented shit decades ago that claimed to improve life, dying because most of the stuff he’s been eating are artificial, dying, dying, because when shit is happening all around him and life is a fucking bitch to him and he finds no meaning in everything, what else is there for him do? 

Death could finally visit today, Ichigo would want _it_ , welcome it even –but that’s not probable, life has a way of fucking up with his wants, drawing him out until he’s beaten, then fuck with him more. Life gives him chaos when he wants silence; cure instead of poison, and life once again did, because _today_ , he gets a visitor, but it’s _not death_ , it’s a teenage girl.   
“Who is she? Your daughter? Friend’s daughter? Sister’s daughter? Adopted daughter?  _Your daughter?_  You don’t really look like her.” Some annoyingly harpy voice says –his nurse.

“You’re daughter? You have a wife? A gf?”

Ichigo glares at his flamboyant nurse, a killer of sort. “I…I-mean, is she your daughter?”

Ichigo forces himself to speak, “no, I don’t know, and get out,” he tries to tell the nurse sharply, but it’s pathetically raspy and weak and depressed.

“Fine! Fine! I’d just like to ask if you know her ‘cause you know, security and the likes,” the nurse takes a deep breath, shifts his black-rimmed glasses and continues, “you know, we don't really know much about you! And we kinda need info, so a little help here please! Oh and while we’re on the topic, can you just answer this one, do you have a wife or someone, a gf maybe? Me thinks _you_ can’t seriously be single! You're pretty hunky and hot for your age, do you know that? Ah damn, _weeell_ ,  _you are_  hunky and hot. Do you even age? But you're rude to everybody! I mean, It’s not very pretty, but damn, hot rude, yes, hot mean, yes, hot mess, oh yes! Crazy sexy and shit. So, huh, well?”

“ _Stop_ ,” Ichigo turns, a glare in place, just as thug-like as before (though not as mean as he would normally do because this nurse –despite flamboyance- means well and brings him fresh orange juice on Sundays) and  Ichigo adds, “ _please_.”

“K, k,” the nurse answers, “So, uh, ya wanna see her?”

“ _No_ ,” Ichigo deadpans.

“Oh-kay,” then the nurse turns his back on him.

Ichigo is just about to turn and lie down again when the same nurse shouts something, “hey sweetheart, you can come in!”

 _What kind of shitty place is this?_  Ichigo frowns irritably and prepares to berate the flamboyant nurse but finds him gone, instead, a teenage girl with short black hair and purple eyes has taken his place.

Confused, “who are you?” Ichigo barks at her, unmindful of manners.

The girl blinks twice, a frown forming on her face.

“You’re not my daughter, are you?” he asks as he regards the girl. She’s a teenager, wearing a grey high school uniform he barely recognizes. He guesses she’s fifteen years of age…fuck, what was he doing fifteen years ago?She couldn’t be his daughter, could she?

"Sorry kid, I don't know your mother, I'm pretty sure I never fucked a brunette before," he says hoarsely,  _sorry kid._  He did fuck brunettes before.

She shakes her head. And Ichigo visibly relaxes, shoulders slump again.

It is winter, it is almost over but the cold still frosts his windows and creates mist everywhere, and the silver brilliance has seeped into his room, shedding unwanted light onto his room.

Ichigo is significantly older, Rukia notes. Seemingly more robust, posture more defined yet he’s still slim and lanky. There are no traces of his youthful boyhood at 14, he lost that vigor and poise he had when he was 27, what remained is the visage of a very tired and very bitter man. 

Rukia smiles sadly: the sun rises, the sun sets.

Ichigo thinks he remembers the young girl’s smile – slight and careful and her eyes are lit up and looking pointedly at him.

The girl introduces herself; her voice is rough, like a boy's, “I’m Rukia.”


	5. Chapter 5

**(-) 4749 days (14)**

 

It took months and months before Ichigo can tolerate the Kuchiki girl’s early-morning presence in the school grounds:

The first was: Ichigo finds the Kuchiki girl seated on one of the stone grey benches lining their school entrance. It’s 6:00 am, super freaking early even for top-notch students to go to school. Ichigo looks around, her suit-and-tie-and-sunglasses-wearing bodyguards aren’t around and so are her Kuchiki-approved chaperone luxury car and its convoys.

The girl is alone though, except for her books and notes in which several are open at the same time and she –he guesses- speeds read all of them.  Fucking weird.

Ichigo keeps himself hidden in the large stone gates of his school, peeking at her. He debates on whether to march inside and go about his business (which is to run in the school field) or not. Most likely not. He cannot be anywhere near the Kuchiki girl. At all times. Bad, _bad_ for reputation. And so he thinks irritably, why can’t she just go to some super elite private school along with her kind?

The second was: it’s raining so, so bad. Again, he finds the Kuchiki girl sitting alone at the edge of the grey bench nearest to him, she has an umbrella with her (something that he doesn’t have, he already got out of his house when the downpour began) leaving her and the spot beside her rain-free. This time, though, she isn’t reading something, her eyes are somewhere else. Ichigo stares at the spot and puts up his –practically useless- hood jacket and leans against the stone gates (his bag is waterproofed anyway).

There’s a full minute of horrible down pour and Ichigo freezing in his clothes and why won’t the rain just stop?

“Oi! You there! You can sit beside me!” The Kuchiki girl calls, probably at him – no one is still around except the two of them. He ignores her.

“I mean it!” she tries again. Ichigo holds his arm up, as if to wave her away, “I mean it, thug-looking schoolmate!” she yells, weirdly cheerful.

 _Schoolmate_ , Ichigo thinks surly, _tch_ , she’s too annoying, what a goody-goody. (he doesn’t mind the thug comment though, it’s kind of badass coming from the student council president herself)

There’s something to be said about a teenage boy’s determination to look cool and detached and nonchalant. Rukia gets up from her bench, leaving her spot drenched, and makes her way to where the hooded tall boy stands and offers him the other side of her umbrella.

“Okay, at least make room.”

Ichigo looks at her, a careful glance and a calculated tilt of his head (for having that “being cool” effect), but she is not looking at him but ahead – at the road in front of them, and he’s sure she doesn’t know who he is, but then, he’s pretty much sure she doesn’t know him even without the hood and all.

But nevertheless, he scoots a little to the side, clearing a place for her and her umbrella, quietly grateful. And she shields both of them against the downpour, both settle on quietly watching the grey road and wet pavements and the town people. Ichigo wonders about her.


	6. Chapter 6

**(+)1 day (27)**  


Sometime between 3 am and 4 am at the shrine, when most people had gone out, when the lights around the place are dimmed, and when the fireworks are no more, Ichigo and Rukia found an empty wooden bench in between a tree and a post lamp, overlooking the town.

They are quiet for a long time, sitting on the bench, watching the town lights and house lights below go off one by one. Ichigo yawns, mentions something about people resting and sleeping and dreaming.

"I dream," Rukia says suddenly, her voice quiet and solemn, mostly to herself –like a self-affirmation, "I _can_ dream."

Ichigo yawns again, “What?”

"Dreams," she says again to emphasize. Like saying it over and over and over again fills its absence, “or I like to think I can dream.”  
Ichigo doesn’t know what to answer her, that’s an odd thing to say.


	7. Chapter 7

**(+) 4380 days (39)**

 

The Kuchiki manor had been partially abandoned a decade before – the entirety of the clan are living elsewhere; this was the former main residence. Only her and few household assistants remain to keep the place impeccably tidy.

Rukia understands tradition –remembers tradition.

The Kuchikis are always unforgiving when it comes to tradition, and her time with them in the past had been rather challenging. Even so, they _were_ her family and respect and politeness had been _bred_ to her. And more so, this is not a simple request. Though her Nii-sama never answers, she still talks to him and asks for his permission, and it is tradition in the family to seek an advice or permission from an older authority.

Rukia, as she remembers the teachings of the clan’s ladies, seats properly in front of her brother’s memorial. She wore well and spoke in a hush tone, "I have a request, Nii-sama."

Rukia feels ( _thinks_ she’s) nervous. She has never been this nervous since she set foot in that high-school building, in that shrine, in that hospital room –all for the first time.

Humans have been walking to their deaths since they were born. The sun rises, the sun sets, the trees grow, the flowers bloom, there is normalcy in death, normalcy in grief and sorrow, and for some, there is joy in passing away. Rukia, for her part, has been living normally for a long time, and she sees no reason why should she be any different; after all, there is _heart_ and there is _normalcy_ in her as all the other humans.

_A human said every morning is different-_

Bowing deeply, Rukia tells her brother’s memorial, "I have been in overdrive for a very long time; I ask for your permission to finally sleep when he dies."

_(-I wish to wake up differently one day, truly feeling the sun on my skin)_

.

.

.

 _Rukia_  is a high-end, autonomic  _marionette_. Android with a consciousness. Artificially Intelligent; runs on wires and chips and digital programs. Self-sustaining, self-programming, and self-aware. The first of her kind to go in public undetected; an experiment. Hyper-realistic and emotionally-independent. Rukia is _always_ fifteen.

Ichigo only lived a single lifetime, but life had not been kind.

 _Rukia_ is Ichigo's teenage crush at 14, his program compatible match at 27. Both times he lost his memories of her. They meet again at 39. 


	8. Chapter 8

**(-) 4745 days (14)**

“Wait!” Ichigo abruptly stops, this time, pulls on her hand to make her stop, they had been running for almost an hour, the small towns and shops and the buildings long past them. They are on a road overlooking the town, half of the sun on the other side of the globe by now and everything in dark honey-scarlet glow.

“Why are we running?” he asks breathlessly, bending over with his palms on his knees, “are there punks after you or something?” he didn’t think the Kuchiki girl could attract any sort of high school indecency.

Rukia stops then turns to him, thoughtful for a moment, then she answers “oh, nothing really.”

“What?!” Ichigo straightens, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. An unpaid toil doesn’t go too well with him, “-then what hell you pulled me for?!”

“I thought your height could hide me well while I run.” She answers gaily, a hint of smirk on her lips. The setting sun glinting off her hair and casting her elongated shadow on the ground. He’s suddenly aware of how small she really is.

“No shit really. Why?” Ichigo is not at all an uncaring and unkind man, if someone or a big bully is bothering her then he would have to do a scare-fest to this bully – it adds to his “coolness” of course.

“Nothing,” she insists and walks to the side of the steel road rails, bracing and pulling herself up, she sits on it. “It’s just fun to experience, you know, escaping my bodyguards.”

Oh, well. Shit. That’s it. Ichigo’s shoulders went slump, and sighs in a way that tells her he’s disappointed. _So, it is that type of teenage angst_ , he thinks sourly, putting his hands in his pockets, considering the absurdity of her situation. “Yeah, so I’ve got a princess here wanting to escape her life.” He tells her dismissively, shaking his head.

Of course Rukia gets it, she stares at him and blinks twice, torn between laughing or correcting him, instead she says, “Oh? But that’s not what I-”

“Well then, don’t invite to go to an adventure with you or just go back to your castle and wallow in your silky bed or whatever.”  He continues.

“But I’m not a princess,” she tells him quietly – half smiling, in another day, maybe she could laugh at the notion.

The post lamps behind him are already lit and the road ahead seems all right, but nevertheless, he still asks sincerely, “I think your absurd “run away” drama ends here, want me to walk you home?”

For a moment, there is uncomfortable silence.

“No, thank you, my bodyguards will find me here.”

 “Right. I have no time for a rich brat’s woes.” Ichigo drawls before turning on his heels and walking away, “sorry but go bother someone else.”

So much for running and wasting time.

However, ten steps later, the Kuchiki girl yells at Ichigo.

“I thought it’s just nice to break everyday routines once in a while!”

He glances back at her, eyebrows furrowed. There’s something irritatingly suspicious by the way she smiles at him: slight and careful and her eyes are lit up and pointedly looking at him.

 “What?” he yells back.

“It felt nice! Right?” he could see that she’s somewhat smirking, “Right? Kurosaki?” she’s definitely smirking. “And I’m not a brat!”

“What?” he yells again.

“I said! Break routines! Once in a while! I’m not a brat!”

Ichigo turns around and shakes his head. The student council president is pretty fucking weird.

.

.

.

(but it did not end there, when he reached 50 steps, the Kuchiki girl yelled at him again:

“Oi! Kurosaki!”

“What?!” he turns to her, glaring severely.

“Where are you going? Your house is in the opposite direction!”

Ichigo stiffens, “What?!” the trees are around him, the road is definitely familiar, the town beneath –exactly like the view in Yuzu and Karin’s room. _The hell-?_

 “I just used a little bit of diverse navigation!” He hears the Kuchiki girl yell, “Sorry! But I’m not mistaken! I know! I checked the records! You think I’d run here thoughtless?”

It is -with absolute horror- that she is definitely correct. “Damn it!” he hisses and troops back begrudgingly in very fast strides, not meeting her eyes, shoulders hunched like a shy little boy and he wears a fierce scowl (that looked comical). And she, still perched on her uncomfortable sitting spot and happily swinging her legs and smirking at him, mercifully did not say anything else. _I still have to look cool_ , he thinks.

But when he’s 20 steps away, she yells again.

“Hey! Hey Kurosaki!”

“Argh! What now?!”

He hears a stifled, _horrifyingly_ _girly_ laugh.

“Thanks for delivering those New Year cards! I read all of them! Yes, even those inside the truck! I like the one with the cherry blossoms and bunnies the most!”

“Shut up!”

“Nice meeting you!”

“It’s not!”

“What’s ‘ _not_ ’?”

“Argh! Just stop shouting! Don’t bother me!”

They looked like, of course, a pair of idiots shouting at each other at 6 pm. The farthest thing from being cool, Ichigo concludes bitterly.

Ichigo thought there would be peace when she did not answer-

“I’m Rukia by the way!”


	9. Chapter 9

**(+) 1 day (27)**

Today is the last day of the year and both of them are holding postcards –nengajo. Rukia brought the two of them each.

“You are supposed to write something on it,” she starts, brandishing the card in Ichigo’s face, “your first message for the New Year-”

“I know,” he barely glimpses at her then pockets his card.

“You have to write by your hands-”

“I know.” 

“This is supposed to be for your loved ones.”

 “I know.” 

Rukia leans to him, “firsts are very important; this is hatsumode,” she tells him at some point as they continue to walk in a snail pace, “and this is hatsudayori, the exchanging of cards” she waves her card in his face, “in case you are wondering. Then there is hatsuyume or the first dream of the year when we sleep and-”

This time, he looks at her, “for the last time,  _I know_.”

“ _Oh_  ,” then she relaxes and offers a slight curve of her lips – which he thinks, is the closest to a smile, “of course.”

He doesn’t tell her: he grew up here. _Also_ , he doesn’t tell her: why he’s with her.

“I used to go here with guards my brother gave me, it is amazingly uncomfortable to be airlifted from the manor to reach this place and avoid the people, you know,” when he doesn’t reply, she continues, she knows he’s listening, “I have to make a wish circled by them,” then she makes a little laugh which absolutely catches him off guard, “then they disappeared when I got too old.”

Ichigo doesn’t react much, a slanted look from him tells her he understood.  He thinks, the matching program is so wrong.

“I’ll be making a wish with you this year, Kurosaki-san.”


	10. Chapter 10

**(-) 4722 days (14)**

Ichigo tells himself: grumpy and mad and exhausted, ‘it’s _only temporary_.’

This December 31 (the last day of the year) he decides to work as a part-time mail delivery boy for an extra income during the long school break. This is because of the extra work load for the post office during this season, there are many unsent nengajo or postcards waiting to be delivered to family and friends for the New Year. Ichigo doesn’t like the work but pays well anyway.

He’s on his final delivery. Ichigo reads Kuchiki Residence on his address list, then looks at the bold KUCHIKI MAIN RESIDENCE embossed in silver at a huge wooden plaque on the brick wall beside double black gates.

After being through several checkpoints and gates, he thinks, _they’re really, really, really rich_ , the family that lives here. Tall men wearing black suits and earpieces, both foreign and local, stand everywhere. And the wide landscapes and various Japanese manors in this estate, he thinks, are an interesting blend of serene traditional design and sleek tech prowess.

Ichigo watches his own reflection on the solid black gates that are as glossy as mirrors and as thick as bricks and waits for it to slide open.

Teenage Ichigo feels tiny, insignificant, and out of place.

There’s a beep and the double gates slide quietly, and he marches forward with hurried steps, determined to look for the household manager and deliver his cards without so much as a stain left on the pavement. He stays at the side of the bricked and curved driveway lined with shiny cars he’s sure he could never name.

He reaches the main doors and sees two extremely large wooden doors with two interlaced swan carvings, Ichigo prepares to turn and look for another entrance and he’s sure these doors aren’t meant to let a delivery boy in to hand New Year cards. Ichigo almost turns around when the doors open and a girl in furisode stands in front.

Ichigo regrets that he wears his dirty white uniform and a blue cap and rugged pants and grimy sneakers and a sling bag. There are two huge boxes he carries in his arms containing the firsts of their packages –there’s a truck load more waiting outside, still in the checkpoint.

He regrets because he looks so  _uncool_. He knows the girl in front is a year older than him and is the president of the student council in the high school he attends.

She blinks at his direction. She wears a blue and white furisode in swirling snowflakes design, and hair in a messy bun, a single hair strand hang loose between her eyes, jeweled swan pin on her head. She stands daintily in front of him, flanked by four men in identical black suits. _Ah_ , Ichigo deduces, _New Year shrine visit_.

He swallows hard and his voice seems to depart him.

She doesn’t say anything but continues to observe him, and he feels like he’s being studied over, however penetrating, it is not unpleasant.Ichigo stays unmoving until one suit-wearing man guides him away. He doesn’t hear what the man says but sees him point to the other door where most of the household employees enter.

When Ichigo moves aside, she drops her gaze.


End file.
